Falling Slowly
by sherlocked-with-no-key
Summary: Modern AU. When Gilbert learns the news of his Stage 3 terminal cancer, he is devastated. But with the help of the Bad Touch Trio and his girlfriend Elizabeth, he'll go on a journey to remind himself that not all people are terrible, and not every life should end in sorrow. Full length fic. Rated T for foul language and death.
1. Chapter 1

**Herro! Okie-dokie, so I tried previously to do a full length fic but I'm a procrastinator and I get nothing done so I'll have to hold off on that for the time being because I'm starting this! It's a lost easier to write and I enjoy the story more so expect a lot of updates!**

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><p>The news hit him like a bullet train. His eyes scanned the last few lines of the email again. Every word stung him like a wasp.<p>

_Diagnosis of Stage Three __Osteosarcoma: Positive._

His heart shattered. He couldn't breathe. His eyes stung. He clutched his chest as a sob escaped his lips and buried his face in his arms. In the next hour, his house was torn to shreds as the fury exploded in his being. It was so unfair, all of it.

He needed more time, verdammt.

As he slouched against the wall by his television, tears streaking his pale face, his telephone jingled to life. It went unanswered. A moment later it rang again.

"Fuck off!" he screamed at the device.

After the final tone, a voice mail echoed around the room.

"H-Hi Gil, it's Toni. Francis and I just got the e-mail. We thought, maybe, you'd like to come with us to get lunch in about a half an hour." His Spanish accent made it hard for Gilbert to hear through the static of the phone, "You shouldn't be alone now, Gil. Call me back, amigos."

Gilbert didn't move from his spot on the wall. He rolled his head back, staring across the room blankly.

His eyes strayed to the clock on the wall. In less than an hour he'd have to face the cruel world outside. The one he'd already lost his leg to. He thought that by that point, it would have been have been pleased and left him alone. But only two months after the operation, he'd received the e-mail from his physician that tore everything apart. The slim chance of hope he'd graciously embraced was ripped brutally away.

The words replayed in his mind. _Diagnosis. Stage Three. Positive. _

Stage Three. Gilbert choked at the thought. Stage Three was the last straw. Basically, the last two words that meant, 'it's been nice knowing you.' At this point, there was nothing that any doctor in the world could do to save him. Which is why Stage Three is labeled as terminal.


	2. Chapter 2

He had dressed slowly and lazily, throwing on loose jeans and a gray hoodie. He glared at his prosthetic leg with contempt as his slid on his trousers. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, unsurprised by what met his sunken eyes. Dirty platinum hair covered burgundy eyes. His ashen skin was sunken, covering his bones like the hide of a drum. Dark circles rested under his cheeks and eyes, highlighting even further the lack of sleep he'd gotten the past few months. He threw the hood over his head and left, shoving his hands in his pockets.

After a brief trot down a few flights of apartment building stairs and a brisk walk down the busy city sidewalk, he reached the café that Antonio had told him to meet at in a later message. The brightly lit neon sign glowed brightly in the afternoon overcast. The dark clouds above only matched his dreary mood. With a sigh, he pulled open the door; the ringing bell above cheerily announcing his arrival.

"Gilbert!" Francis stood up from his table at the chime. He rushed over, tightly embracing his friend. His mutterings in French went unheard to Gilbert as he shuffled away from his grasp and sat at the table. Antonio was across from him, eyes wide in anguish.

"Gil," Toni started, but Gilbert raised a hand to stop him.

"I appreciate your guys tries to help, but there's nothing you can do. I'm a walking dead man. End of story."

Francis looked taken aback, "We are your les amis, Gilbert. We will always try to do something. And who knows, my aux cheveux blancs friend, you might be the first person to survive a Stage Three! You'll never know."

"Would you cut it with the French, Francis? You know I can't understand a damn thing you're saying." He snapped.

"Je suis désolé," he muttered, then, catching himself, said, "I'm sorry."

Gilbert bit his lip, staring at the table underneath his arms, "No, I am. I'm being unreasonable."

Antonio grasped Gilbert's arm, "No, you aren't Gilbert. It's completely normal to be scared. You have every right to be after all. I'd think you were alien if you weren't a little shaken by such news."

Gilbert's lip shivered, and he blinked rapidly. "I'm not scared." He said quietly. His friends didn't speak, and he was grateful for the silence. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. The bustling restaurant around him continued living, as if their world continued to spin on, whereas Gilbert's had come to a complete halt.

"Does Elizabeth know?" Antonio asked softly. Gilbert's heart felt like a rotten apple in his chest, growing more decayed each moment.

"Not yet." He whispered. He ran his hands over his face and sat back in his chair. "How the hell am I going to tell her that I have a few months to live?"

Francis spoke up, locking his azure eyes with Gilbert's crimson, "Eliza loves you, Gilbert. You must be honest with her."

"Yeah, but I don't think, 'Hey Lizzie, guess what? I'm doomed to die in a few months, let's go get dinner,' would be a very nice way to tell her."

"In all honesty, amigo, I think Lizzie would want a drink more than dinner after that kind of news." Toni played with his fork absentmindedly. Gilbert noticed that his emerald eyes hadn't grown any clearer, and with a quick glance at Francis, it was the same. They were taking it harder than they were letting on. The apple in Gilbert's chest seemed to mold even faster.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Gilbert's voice cracked, and he silently cursed his life. Why did he have to be born into this life, why did he have to get cancer, why did he have to die?

"Mon ami," Francis said, "Who knows? The best you can do is believe that you won't regret the choices you make. And in Lizzie's case, she was one of the best choices. She'll understand."

Gilbert met his teary eyes. He smiled weakly, and Francis returned the tired look.

Antonio sleeved a stray tear from his cheek. "I guess there's one thing left to decide, Gil." He said, "What are you going to do with the time you've got left?"

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><p><span><strong>Translations<strong>

**amigo- friend**

**les ami- frends**

**aux cheveux blancs- white haired**

**Je suis désolé- I'm sorry**

**Mon ami- My friend**

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><p>So there was chapter 2! Hope you guys like it so far! I have a good idea of where I'm going with this one, so stay tuned for more!<p> 


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